


BBKAZ: Love & Loss on the coast of Colombia: have you heard of METAL GEAR :^Y???

by hottoddies888



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: CIA Shenanigans, Drug Use, Drug cartels, M/M, Mild Homophonia, Wacky Times, the 70's as a construct
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:02:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26335351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hottoddies888/pseuds/hottoddies888
Summary: So. This isn’t gonna really add anything new to canon or “fill in the gaps” or anything because let’s be honest it’s all been said and done.This is more in line with like a wacky one off adventure set in Pre-Peacewalker times that never gets brought up again and maybe didn’t happen, like the monster hunter missions or some shit. What I’m saying, is this is a self indulgent crack fic and I’m not gonna sit here and pretend otherwise, but I’ll also like. Try. Anyway:Big Boss and Kazuhira Miller's Excellent adventure
Relationships: Big Boss/Kazuhira Miller
Comments: 8
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

This is the same place it always starts.

Standing.

In the middle of an open field.

The grip of an M1911 pistol, rough against his sweat-slicked palm.

White petals drifting through the air.

He alway’s fixates on that detail when he gets to this point in the ~~memory~~ dream. They move so slowly, like they were swimming. The gentleness of the motion would be peaceful, if there wasn’t the overwhelming sensation of dread drowning out every other thought he could be having. A summer picnic in a meadow of flowers. The last time he’d ever see

Snake jerks awake with a start. Cold sweat soaks the uniform on his back, there is soil under his fingernails from scrabbling at the dirt. He instinctively bites down on his tongue to keep from making any sound, holding until he tastes copper. Slowly, methodically, he takes in his surroundings without indicating he’s had a change in consciousness. He was in a forest. The temperature, humidity, and local fauna indicated the climate was tropical. Spies a sliver of moon through the tree tops, based on it’s position it was roughly 0300 hours. He could taste the faint smell of the ocean on his tongue. After that it all comes back to him in chronological order, Zero, The Patriots, _Les Enfants Terribles_ , South America. Colombia. He must have been sleep walking again.

He gets up, brushes off the leaves, then follows the trail of broken twigs and muddy footprints back to the temporary base set up by the band of wayward soldiers that had been steadily amassing around him in the last few months. Most of the rabble had been sent on suicide missions just to make a show of cheap and bloody national pride, or had been cast aside by their nations government to fend for themselves in the endless tug of war between the East and the West. A few had simply joined because they wanted to bear witness to “the legendary Big Boss himself”. _Ugh_. He resented the reputation that preceded him. He would’ve brushed his hands of the whole mess if he didn’t see the fear behind each soldiers eyes when they looked at him for guidance. They were all there because they had been abandoned, and if he abandoned them who would they turn to? He’d been doing most of the work of acquiring jobs, basic training, and keeping them afloat until recently. They’d gotten some new “recruits”, a stand out amongst them a mixed race Japanese drill sergeant that Snake had decided to promote to subcommander.

Kazuhira Miller. _Or if that’s too much of a mouthful_ , as he cheekily puts it, _you can call me_ , Kaz. He had taken Snake on a wild goose chase since the moment he’d asked him to be his _kaishaku_. Snake found it amusing that for a wet-behind-the-ears rookie, his ego was so big he’d asked for a ceremonial execution after his first loss. He’d thought the kid was all bark until he pulled out a grenade for a punchline. Something about the look in his eye spoke to Snake of a deeper complexity behind what was for all purposes, a half-baked hail Mary. A desperation, not to survive, but to not lose face in front of his enemy. Warrior’s pride, maybe. It piqued his interest enough anyway to save the kids life and extend a formal invitation to join up with their nationless militia, the first one he’d offered. It was the moment he’d finally decided that was in fact, what they were. An army with no nation. True brother’s in arms, setting aside patriotic notions and philosophical theories of utopia for the flesh and blood man at their side. It was an attractive enough idea to Snake, or at least it occupied his mind enough he didn’t have time to think about ~~the Virtuous Mission~~ anything else. Of course, the brat blew off the whole gesture and claimed to have his own dreams to pursue, but he was still young and didn’t understand the world yet. Naive enough to boast his comrades in the rebellion would welcome him back with open arms rather than suspect him of sabotaging their entire operation. Planning his next move when anyone else would be praying to just be given a swift death. All the men thought he was a narcissistic idiot armed with a business degree playing at war to make himself rich. In many ways, that was what made Kaz the perfect example of the “yesterday’s enemy is today’s ally” message he wanted to sink in with the troops. They weren’t quite allies, but they weren’t quite enemies either. A mutually beneficial “partnership”, as Kaz saw it. Besides, it wasn’t every day that Snake met someone that entered their field of work for a reason other than having no other choices. That saw the potential for something more than just war as a necessary evil. Building something of worth. The kid still needed more experience for sure, but for now it was enough to see what tricks he could pull out of his sleeve when he was given a stage.

Speaking of the devil, there he appeared, running at Snake with a tin mug of coffee and a glower behind his trademark shades. When he’d gone back to the battlefield to grab them, Snake didn’t think the kid would wear them _all_ the time once he had them back. He kind of regretted it for some reason.

“There you are! What’s going on with you, Snake? Sleep walking again?”

Kaz had a mildly irritating habit of stating the obvious.

“What are you doing up at this hour?”

He’d wanted to add, _and why are you wearing your sunglasses at three o’clock in the morning?_ , but he had the feeling that’d provoke the kid and he was still a little off from his dream. Didn’t feel like a CQC session.

Kaz just sighs and shakes his head, turning to call off an apparent search he’d had the night shift guards conducting. Snake would have to talk to them later about wilderness tracking, they still hadn’t found him once when he’d go on his subconscious excursions. He heads off towards his lean-to shelter, they had some tents but not enough for everyone and they tried to reserve them for their wounded and any supplies that needed to be kept dry. He gets two steps before Kaz barks a _Wait up!_ , trotting along like he hadn’t been up working since dawn the last morning. Snake wasn’t sure, but if there was one thing Kaz could possibly beat him at, it was enduring the menial minutiae of sorting through the business side of operating a private defense force. Snake wondered if he had a wind-up motor somewhere that he just gave a twist every time a normal person would keel over. Or something like that.

“Snake, listen, you have to get your sleeping habits under control. There haven’t been any signs our location is being tracked so far, but it only takes one slip-up for you to get caught out on your own and captured by your old pals you seem to be so concerned about. The men can’t afford to lose you, and we barely have enough gear here to keep ourselves going, let alone mount a rescue.”

Snake scoffs, pulls a cigar out of his utility pouch and searches for some half-way dry matches to light it. He had given up on finding an exit route for this conversation and he wasn’t going to get anymore sleep tonight anyway. It might seem like Kaz was just voicing his concern, but Snake could tell by the way he wouldn’t keep his hands still he had something else on his mind. Kaz had another mildly irritating habit of beating around the bush until he’d exhausted all other conversation topics than the one he really wanted to talk about. Better to just cut to the chase.

“I’ll do my best, Kaz. What’s this big contract you’ve been working yourself to the bone for?”

 _That_ lightens Kaz up, the flicker of a smile is fake but the flush that creeps up the back of his neck is genuine. For some reason he was always flattered when Snake indicated in any way he’d noticed his labors. He wonders if this might be some kind of cultural thing.

“Well, it’s kind of got a tight deadline, but it’s actually a pretty decent payout. And we’d be working with our old sovereign power, the United States.”

Immediately the corners of Snake’s mouth turn down into a frown. He didn’t have issues with doing contracts for the U.S., in fact a majority of their missions came through from his old contacts in the CIA, but he couldn’t think of any reason they would circumvent him to negotiate the contract with Kaz instead.

“This one came from an old contact _I_ have actually; a guy I trained in Virginia when I was doing military instructor jobs in the U.S.. Ned Beecher. Now he’s operating in the anti-drug trafficking unit for the CIA in Colombia and Venezuela.” As if he’d read Snake’s mind.

“Ok… so what does he want us to do for him?”

“Well, apparently he has some kind of intel that can’t be conveyed through any means but in person. I guess the details of the mission are dependent on what exactly that information is, but he’s assured me that he’s been cleared by all the right people to share it with us and there’s no one else that can do this job but you, Boss.”

Snake was liking the sounds of this mission less and less by the minute. That was virtually nothing to go off of, even when they were dealing with sensitive information they usually got a bare bones briefing in the cut out. And he couldn’t see what intel about the Colombian drug cartels would be so sensitive it couldn’t be conveyed through any other means but in person. Unless Kaz was intentionally withholding the details, something about this whole contract stank.

“The only catch, the window to meet with him is tomorrow. Or I guess later today. He’s staying in a hotel in Barranquilla, the Hotel Prado. He’s still maintaining his undercover identity, so he can’t reschedule or wait for us if we miss our window, but if we leave now we should make it with plenty of time to spare.” Alright, that settled it.

“No.”

“No? I haven’t even told you what we’ll be getting paid yet!”

“Don’t care. The answer’s still no, Kaz. You can’t honestly not see that this whole deal has a catch? I’m not sticking my neck out to find out what it is.”

Kaz drops his jaws in shock, but the action reads as performative. Oh, God damn this brat.

“Well! I’m _hurt_ you’d question my powers of observation, but I know that, Snake. That’s why I had my _other_ contact involved in facilitating weapon deals through the cartel to the guerrilla rebels give me the scoop on what that catch is. Beecher has been masquerading as an American drug lord purchasing cocaine and weapons to track shipment routes for the CIA. Apparently, the cartel boss doesn’t suspect a thing and the partnerships been going great. _Too well_ in fact, he wants Beecher to permanently relocate to South America to work for him. If that happens, he’ll likely lose contact with his operator and be treated as collateral when the CIA decides to bust up the whole operation. Knowing Ned, he probably has cold feet and wants us to extract him before things get too hot. It’ll be no sweat, and better yet he has complete access to the CIA slush fund and will pay _premium_ for the greatest soldier of all time to guarantee his safety! So what do you think now, Snake, still not worth the drive?”

Kaz is looking at Snake like he was expecting him to clap him on the shoulder, shed a manly tear, and say _Attaboy, Kaz. Attaboy_. A beat passes. Snake fiddles with his cigar.

“…..Hmmm. Still no.”

 _“What?!_ Why?! Give me one good reason why we shouldn’t take this mission! It’s low-risk, high-reward, the CIA and drug cartel will have no idea we were ever there, I’ve covered every _angle-“_

“Something doesn’t feel right about this one.”

Kaz pauses mid-rant, his tongue sticking between his teeth off the _le_ in _angle._ He holds like this for an almost uncomfortably long time, like he was having trouble processing what Snake had said. But Snake had made this error enough times now that he knew what was really going on. Something he’d said just pissed Kaz off. He wished they were a little farther from base so they wouldn’t wake the men.

“Snake…listen. We _need_ the money from this job. We can’t just keep spinning our wheels like this, taking on charity cases for the locals with barely enough left to keep us afloat. I don’t like it any more than you do, but if we want things to go anywhere, if we want to actually build something, we have to start accruing capital. We’re going to have to start taking some risks. But you don’t have to do it alone, Snake. We’re _partners_ remember? The two of us can get out of anything as long as we have each others backs, ok?”

Now _that_ wasn’t what Snake was expecting. Kaz wasn’t just taking him for a wild ride this time, or at the very least if he was he was making quite a show of putting his faith in him. Snake rolled his cigar from one side of his mouth to the other. He takes a few pulls, grabs the stub between his forefinger and thumb and takes it out to let out a cloud of smoke. The air was so thick it just hovered around their heads, clinging to them. Kaz’s throat bobs as he suppresses a cough.

“Fine. Let’s do it.”


	2. Chapter 2

It’s about 6 hours by jungle jeep to Barranquilla from wherever they were in Cordoba. They moved so often, Kaz wasn’t even sure of they’re exact location anymore. He used to be so careful, keeping track of nearest signs of civilization, noting the direction they were moving in and the distance traveled every day. Now he was so focused on bring in enough money to keep them going, he didn’t have the brain space. Not much point in worrying about keeping under the radar now, anyways.

His train of thought was broken by Snake giving his left shoulder a light shake and asking if he had heard what he said.

“Oh, uh, what was it?”

“I said, ‘Do you want to start prepping what we’ll need while I start the jeep?’”

 _Shit._ Kaz was pretty sure every time Snake volunteered to drive it was just to give him a heart attack. Snake claimed repeatedly that the lack of depth perception didn’t affect him _at all_ , but Kaz had had enough motion sickness in the passenger seat on Snakes joy rides by now that he could argue against that statement.

“Er, I can drive, Snake. Besides, I already plotted out our route so I know the quickest way.”

Snake is already shaking his head before Kaz has finished.

“I know how to get to Barranquilla. Besides, you haven’t had enough rest in the last 24 hours to drive safely. Look, your hands are shaking.”

Kaz glances down and sure enough, his hands _are_ shaking, though he’s not sure if it’s from fatigue. He was surprised Snake hadn’t become at all suspicious of his frequent “relief” trips and how _…peppy_ he’d get when he’d had a few too many. He also had frequent nose bleeds, but he’d explained those away as the result of an “old childhood injury”. It’s not that he thought Snake was against drug use morally, it’s just it felt to Kaz like Snake would see it as an indication he wasn’t able to effectively perform his duties as sub-commander. Or worse; make him do drug resistance training.

He quickly shifts this hands behind his back and squeezes them together to suppress the tremor.

“I’m not tired, Snake! Really I’m fine, why don’t you just let me drive the first couple hours until we reach the road-“

“Hurry up and get in the passenger seat, Kaz.”

Damn. Well, pick your battles, as they say. Kaz climbs into the passenger seat of the jeep, grumbling quietly to himself while double checking the safety on his handgun. Snake swings into the driver’s seat and claps him on the back, causing him to start and nearly fire off a round. He twists round to shoot a stink-eye in Snake’s direction and he’s grinning at him like an especially smug pirate. Kaz hated how incredibly easy it was for Snake to get him riled up, but he couldn’t stop himself from rising to even the most childish of bait. At least Snake was enjoying himself.

Kaz pulls a map out of the glovebox and starts giving Snake directions, but before they get 10 minutes out of camp he blinks and when he opens his eyes the sun is up and it looks like they’ve been on the road for awhile now. He fell asleep? Kaz shifts and grimaces, his neck ached from being cramped against the seat head in the same position for hours.

“We’re about 2 hours out.”

Kaz blearily twists to squint against snakes silhouette, one hand relaxed on the steering wheel, while his other hand rested on top of the door. He realizes his aviators had fallen off.

“Get some more rest. You’ll need it.”

Kaz leans over with a mumble and searches the floor for his sunglasses. His finger brushes against them kicked to the back of his seat and he pulls them back up. He wipes the lenses with his scarf before putting them back on. He takes a swig of water from his canteen to wash the taste of sleep out of his mouth. 2 more hours to the city. It’d probably take at least another hour and a half to get to the hotel and the meeting time was at sunset so they wouldn’t have time to scope out the place first. Too bad, but not unworkable.

“Why do you always wear those? Can’t be because you’re _that_ light sensitive.”

Kaz turns to give Snake a scrutinizing look. The man had never attempted to make small talk with him before, there was no way he didn’t have some kind of alternative angle. He seemed pretty relaxed, but Snake was highly trained in the art of deception. Kaz takes another sip, this one more leisurely while he thought about how to answer the question.

“You know how I’m…half Japanese, right? Well, when I was a kid in Japan, the only image I had of my dad was an old portrait of him in uniform. He was wearing these aviators in the picture, and I came to picture him as always wearing those glasses since I didn’t know what his eyes looked like. I spent a lot of time…fantasizing I guess, about him coming back for me and my mom. Like one day we’d get a knock on the door and he would be standing there, just the same as in his picture. You know, it’s funny, when we first met I was so shocked at seeing his face without the glasses I didn’t recognize him at first. Like he was a total stranger to me. I mean I guess he _was_ a stranger to me. Anyway, he still had them and he gave them to me after I showed him the portrait. I don’t know, I guess wearing them makes me feel like I’m closer to that guy in the photo I thought of as my dad for my whole life.”

Saying it all out loud, Kaz felt…embarrassed? Ashamed? He never talked about his heritage with anyone, he only did with Snake now because he already knew the whole story. For some reason, talking about his past made him feel like he’d willingly got caught with his pants down. He’d spent so long lying about it, it just was plain _weird._ Snake doesn’t say anything, but Kaz can feel his eye drifting over to him every few seconds while they drive past a field of cattle. He fiddles with the radio dial to convey his annoyance.

_Te juro que te amo, Afuera esta lloviendo, Por dentro estoy temblando_

“Why did you want him to ‘come back’ for you and your mom? You didn’t like it in Japan?”

“Do you have some _reason_ for asking me about this? Is it related to my performance as your sub commander or my role in this mission in some way, because if it is I’d like to be enlightened.”

Maybe it was the lack of sleep and the coke hangover, but Kaz was feeling on edge and he didn’t like getting his old scabs picked at by the ex-hero turned mercenary he was stuck with for the foreseeable future. If Snake reads the testiness in his tone, he doesn’t show it.

“No, not really. I was just curious, is all.”

“Pull over. I need to take a leak.”

Snake obliges with a somewhat bumpy stop and Kaz all but stalks over to a clump of bushes with a few trees for shade off the side of the road. It stinks of cow shit and the air was buzzing with flies. He shuffles behind a skinny, drought-starved tree and takes a subtle peak over to see if Snake is watching him. He looked to be occupied cleaning bug guts off the windshield. Kaz slips a hand inside his shirt and pulls out a small golden vial decorated with an engraving of a curvy naked woman enticing you to unscrew the lid. He does just that, revealing a small golden hand cupped to scoop out a tiny mound of white powder. He takes 2 quick sniffs, one for each nostril, then unzips his fly to take an actual leak. A small audience of cattle had gathered to watch him with goopy, liquid brown eyes, snuffling noisily from the other side of the fence. He gives them a wink as he shakes off the last drops of piss and they turn away to get back to the far more interesting subject of finding something to graze on. When he turns back towards the jeep with a small chuckle, Snake is standing by the front wheel staring right at him.

Kaz can’t control the instinctive flinch from getting caught unawares, but he quickly gets control of himself and strides confidently toward Snake, giving him a quick wave. No need to panic, there was no reason to believe Snake had seen anything. He doesn’t move an inch until Kaz had gotten within a foot of the jeep.

“Feel better?”

Ok, maybe he _did_ see something, but panicking wouldn’t be of any help. Just be _cool._

“Yup. Ready to hit the road?”

Kaz climbs back into he passenger seat, fully conscious of Snake watching him the entire time. He doesn’t make a move towards the driver’s side until Kaz had buckled himself in. He pulls back on to the road without a word and they quickly pick up speed until their cruising. Snake leaves the radio on it’s current station. Maybe he liked cumbia.

“It wasn’t easy for me. Growing up in Japan.”

Kaz wants to kick himself in the teeth the moment the words are out but he had to say something to distract from his slip-up.

“We have this thing in Japan, um, _koseki._ It’s a registry but it’s not based on individuals, it’s tied to your family and your father’s lineage. Since my father obviously wasn’t registered, I couldn’t be added to it, even as a part of my mother’s family. So I was never really a Japanese citizen, even though I was born there and lived there most of my life.”

At first Snake doesn’t show any sign he’s listening, but after a few beats he tilts his face towards Kaz slightly, prompting him to continue.

“I never really…felt like I belonged there. I mean, my appearance is one thing, but even my attitude and growing up close to an American military base rather than around other Japanese people. It just always felt like everything was leading up to me leaving some day.”

“You wanted to go to America?”

“I did…but that didn’t really pan out either, as you can see. I’m not really sure what I thought I would find but…I guess I’m still looking for that. Whatever it is.”

Snake leans back a bit in his seat, a contemplative look on his face. It was probably because he was high, but Kaz felt some kind of….genuine camaraderie with Snake. A bond between warriors, or whatever Snake liked to call it. They can finally see buildings in the distance breaking up the horizon line.

“Look, I don’t care what you do with your free time. But keep it to your _off_ hours, Kaz.”

Kaz nearly jumps out of his seat, jerking himself against the seatbelt, then manages a strangled laugh while ducking his head sheepishly.

“…Right, Boss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to listen to the song on the radio: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F6TmqU0KUhI


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, bitch.

By the time they get to the Hotel Prado, the sun had set an hour ago and Kaz looked like he was close to bursting a blood vessel. Admittedly, Snake had taken the wrong turn a…… _number_ of times, but he wasn’t the one who insisted on stopping and getting civilian outfits to “help maintain Beecher’s cover" in the event he had a tail. Snake didn’t see how dousing yourself with enough cologne to make an onion cry was “blending in”, but this was Kaz’s operation. He was lucky that it was; if Snake was on his own he would have turned around awhile ago, but Kaz _insisted_ they check the hotel to be certain they had _really_ missed their window. It looked pretty ordinary except that it was bigger than most of the other bed stays around the city, at least that Snake had seen. Barranquilla was packed for the upcoming carnival _,_ every place had _no hay vacantes_ signs tacked up on the front windows and doors but the Prado looked empty at the moment. Only a few rooms on each floor had lights on. Snake wanted to at least circle the building, but before he can move Kaz is crushing him against the seat to rubber neck out of the driver’s side window. 

“That’s the room! 7th floor, south east corner. Good, he’s still here.”

Grimacing from the stink of _Eau de toilette_ , Snake pushes Kaz’s head aside enough to see for himself. Sure enough, 7th floor, all the way to the right, the curtains were drawn and there was a light on in the room. From how Kaz had described him, Snake had figured Beecher’d be too paranoid to wait for them at all, let alone with his windows wide open. 

“I dunno, Kaz. You said we couldn’t be ten minutes late to meet this guy and it’s been an hour.”

“Maybe he was desperate enough to stick around despite the risk. We’re his only shot at escape, remember?”

“Yea…or maybe we’re too late.”

Kaz scoffs with an overt head-toss, presumably to convey his eyes are rolling. It was a mystery to Snake how Kaz could even see at night.

“Come _on,_ Snake. What are the chances of that being the case, like 10 to 1?”

Snake gives Kaz a look. Kaz was possibly the stupidest smart person he had met. He could quote esoteric facts about anything from Buddhism to the linguistic origins of words like “groovy” off the top of his head, but he still had the naivety to believe that he could control the outcome of every situation if he simply _wanted_ it enough. Although he probably should for Kaz’s own sake, Snake was loathe to shatter that fresh-faced optimism. If they grew into the nationless army he wanted them to, he’d learn that soon enough anyway.

“Ok, ok. Look, let’s just ask the front desk if he’s there and if anyone else showed up for him. It can’t hurt to just _check,_ right?”

Snake sighs, then swings onto a side street to park the jeep. They’d already wasted a day getting here, might as well waste the night too.

“I’ll wait in the-"

Kaz opened the passenger door as Snake started speaking and slams it shut before he can get to the word “car”. Snake watches as he bee lines across traffic, not even sparing a glance for the drivers cussing him out in Spanish after narrowly avoiding mowing him over. Snake sighs out loud to himself, then digs around the dashboard for a lighter. Were they this desperate for money? They were little more than mercenaries, but as far as mercs went they were doing well enough for themselves. Getting work. Surviving.  ~~But then she had to come along and show him there was more to life, to being a soldier-~~

Snake closes his eye and breathes heavy cigar smoke until the feeling passes. A pack of stray dogs is rummaging through some trash in front of the jeep, silhouetted in the hazy orange glow of a street light. A thought rises unbidden to his mind, a half-dead commander, gritting blood-stained teeth and clutching a grenade in his hand like it was a lifeline. _I’ll never lose again, we’ll never lose again._ He and Kaz had never directly discussed their initial encounter (for obvious reasons), but Snake still ruminated now and then about why it struck such a chord with him. One part nationalistic pride for a country Kaz had all but forsaken and one part…something else. Snake fought because he had nothing else. Kaz said he fought because fighting _was_ his purpose, in the same way he said his dream of privatizing military forces “wasn’t about the money”. He still hadn’t explained exactly what it was about then, just that the way they were building their outfit was what they “both wanted”. What Snake wanted to know is if what he was doing was really…what the Boss wanted. He’d thought maybe when he was with the Patriot’s he knew what that was, but now he didn’t know if he ever really knew her at all. What would he have done if it was her hiding the grenade, if instead of asking him to execute her, she’d instead asked him to go to hell with her? Then again, she never would have made that kind of offer.  ~~ _There’s only room for one Boss. And one_ ~~

One of the dogs knocks over a can with a crash and Snake starts from his brooding. How long has it been since Kaz had gone in to the hotel? He’d said he was _just_ going to check the front desk. One of these days, that leap-before-you-look attitude was going to get that jackass killed. Snake quickly gets out of the jeep and crosses the street, checking his hand gun as he goes. He only had one backup clip, they’d packed light not expecting any real combat. He slams the front door open and the clerk starts hard enough to tip back and fall off the chair he’d been reclining in. Before he can get up, Snake starts questioning him in English, forgoing trying to formulate the sentence in his rudimentary Spanish.

“Where’s the guy with the sunglasses that just came in here?”

The clerk struggles half way upright, clutching his back.  “ _Coño_! Watch yourself, you scared the living daylights-“

Snake starts looking around for the stairs as the man is talking and takes off before he can finish admonishing him. 

“Wait! You can’t go up there, there’s-“

Snake takes out his gun and knife. Whatever is happening in the room, he just had to get himself and Kaz out of there. Snake arrived at the 7th floor and takes a sharp left toward the end of the hall, straining to hear any signs of struggle. It’s very quiet, nothing looks out of the ordinary. He arrives at the last room on the right and tests the knob. The door opens, already unlocked.

“See? I told you he’d be here any minute.”

Ten men stand in a loose circle around the room, all armed with AK-47’s except one. He sits on the edge of the bed, relaxed and facing Snake in such a way that suggested he was waiting for his arrival. He’s wearing a clean white satin suit with his chest bare underneath, something you’d expect to see at a disco rather than a murder scene. Kaz is on his knees with his hands behind his head on the opposite side of the room, a grunt holding an AK-47 muzzle to the back of his head. He’s sprayed with blood, looks like they had waited for him to arrive before slitting Beecher’s throat. Snake turns back to the man on the bed, his M1911 trained to the patch of skin between his eyes. The room’s silent except for the sounds of the ocean waves crashing from the open balcony door.

“ _Ahem_ , gentlemen? It’s pretty hard to negotiate from the floor.”

Snake’s eye flicks to Kaz and for just a second his billboard bright grin twitches. He tended to turn the “Hollywood charm" act he had going on up in proportion to the danger he was in. Snake suspected Kaz had learned most of his American mannerisms from movies, but he didn’t watch enough himself to say for certain. Kaz slowly stands up, still keeping both hands in the air but taking them off his head. 

“Things might have…gotten off on the wrong foot here but there’s no reason we can’t still strike a deal. This _is_ the legendary Big Boss we’re talking about after all, you wanted to meet him didn’t you? Well here he is in the flesh and I assume you don’t want his autograph.”

How did this guy know the name _Big_ _Boss_? There must be a leak somewhere…did Beecher tell him? How would _he_ even have known? He looks over to Kaz; he only gives a slight shrug in response. Snake would need to figure out how their intruder had heard of him and more importantly, what he’d heard.

“Ha! I like you. You got a lot of balls, _gringo_. Not like this la CIA _puta_.” He motions his head toward Beecher’s corpse.

Kaz, predictably, states the obvious. 

“You knew he was CIA?”

“Of course! It’s not like it was a secret. La CIA have been making deals with the cartel all over South America to help them squash out the guerrilla revolutionaries. Can’t let those commies win, right?” 

The man throws back his head and laughs. Snake contemplates what his angle is. The cartel could secure all the firepower and men they’d need easily, so it was unlikely he was acting on behalf of an entity. He probably needed something personally. Kaz, on the same track, speaks up again

“Ok…so what do you need from us?”

“I wonder, is the so called legendary Big Boss mute? _Te comieron la lengua los ratones?_ It seems like this _maricón_ does all your talking for you.” 

Out of the corner of his eye Snake sees Kaz start to visibly react to the insult and he cuts in quickly before he has a chance to blow up. 

“Cut the bullshit. Hurry up and tell me who you are and what it is you want.” 

The man in the suit looks Snake up and down, making a big show of scrutinizing him. He finally meets Snake’s eye and cracks a grin.

“So you’re telling me the _greatest_ soldier of all time, _the_ Big Boss, wears…shorts?”

Snake glances down at the denim shorts he’d picked out for his “incognito” outfit. Kaz had given him a pretty hard time for them, but the fabric allowed him to move freely in case he needed to use CQC. And besides, it was pretty hot out. 

“This doesn’t add up. You guys are a couple of jokes! I don’t believe you’re the real Big Boss. This _sucio_ was trying to scam this _pendejo_ and he fell for it.” Satin suit gestures at Kaz and Beecher (well, his corpse) respectively. Unfortunately, Snake had to admit the guy had a point. This mission had gone beyond sideways, it was almost certain that if he and Kaz got out alive they would never talk about this one again.Kaz, never lacking in chutzpah, lets his hands finally fall enough for the elaborate gesturing that typically went into his pitches. 

“I can assure you, you can’t _scam_ the CIA, amigo. This is the genuine article. If your such close buddies with them, you can go ahead and call an agent here whose throat you haven’t slit and they could confirm it for you.” 

Snake can’t tell if that’s a bluff or if Kaz was still pissed about the _maricón_ comment.

“Haha, very funny. But listen, I don’t like wasting my time, especially on some dumb shit like two mercs trying to get an edge on the competition by putting on an eyepatch and convincing every idiot with money and a problem they’ve got the real ‘Big Boss’. It really pisses me off, actually.” He raises a hand and all the men ready their weapons. “So you’re going to need to give me some kind of proof here that you two aren’t fucking with me or I’m going to have to have my men give you matching neckties with your friend here.” 

Snake had always detested the title, not just for what it stood for, but because of the idiocy of the gesture. The codenames in FOX were purposefully designed to be completely untethered from any real identity, that was the entire point to the types of operations they’d been created for. It would be oxymoronic to have a way to prove he was a member of the unit. Having a codename bestowed upon him as an “award” was like getting a permanent handicap. He had a feeling that situations like this would only become more frequent and cumbersome in the future.

“How do you know that name?”

“Hmph, I have my resources. And by the way, knowing who Big Boss is doesn’t count for shit towards proving you are him, lots of ex-military mercs like you have heard the name.”

“You deal with mercs often, then?”

The artificial cheekiness drops from mr. big shot’s expression.

“Stop playing games. I’m not gonna tell you how I know, but if you don’t get to telling _me_ what I want to hear, neither of you are gonna be needing to worry about anything but the fucking _plomo_ we’ll be filling your skulls with.”

This guy might be putting up a front, but killing a CIA agent isn’t a line you cross that you can come back from. Snake has a feeling he stands a lot more to lose if he takes them out and they do turn out to be the real deal than if he takes the chance and gets them to cooperate on whatever problem he can’t run from. He just needs to work this to their advantage.

“Take it easy. If you want me to prove I’m Big Boss, I need to know what you’ve heard about me. What is it you want from me that you can’t get from any gun for hire? You said you had the cartel and CIA backing you, sounds like you’ve got all the help you need.”

“That’s my problem. Right now, we’re allies. But they’re not our only allies. See these guns? Courtesy of the KGB, _amigo_. La CIA think they’re always a step ahead, like we’re all just stupid little pawns that they can manipulate to do whatever they want, but two can play at that game. I had the dead _Americano’s_ room bugged; I knew there was something fishy about him. They figured out I was trying to play both sides and he was already talking about taking me in and extraditing me to the U.S. and putting me on “trial” to make a show to the citizens that they’re doing something about the drug problem. Ha, my _ass_! I’m gonna go to jail for life for some dirty politician to say he’s ‘protecting the community’ in his re-election campaign! And the worst part? Here I am, knowing this shit is coming and I can’t do anything about it. There’s no way we can stand up to the U.S.and if I run my Russian friends won’t be too happy either. So there’s nowhere I can go! I might as well hang myself. But if someone who knows everything about how the CIA operates, who could train our guys to be like those special ops fuckers? Maybe we’d stand a chance. Plus, imagine how I’m gonna look to the _patrón_ when I bring in the deadliest guy in U.S. history to help us out? I’ll be set for life.”

Snake doesn’t lower his gun, but he gives the mans proposition serious consideration. This guy’s story raised a lot more questions than they answered, plus there was no way he was going to become the cartels secret weapon to wage war on the CIA. He needed to find some way to get the upper hand. First, they needed to move on from their current stand off. 

“So how do we prove it, then? You have to have some kind of protocol for getting the truth out of people in situations like this right? What are you gonna do, torture us until you know we’re not lying?”

Satin smiles, wagging his finger in a way that suggested he had planned for this contingency. 

“Sure, we have ways of getting people to talk. But if I torture you and you’re the real deal you probably won’t be too keen on helping me after that. Plus I’ll need you two to be in good shape. So no torture.” 

He reaches into the lining of his jacket and pulls out a tin. It pops open to reveal several chalk-white pills. 

“Another trick from la CIA. Think of these like…a truth serum. They lay a man’s soul bare…if you’re the real Big Boss we’ll know for sure.” 

Snake eyeballs the pills. They were completely nondescript, about the size of an Altoid mint but there wasn’t any real way to know the dosage. He was fairly confident whatever truth serum they were made of he would be able to resist thanks to his training. Kaz might be trouble, but as long as Snake kept Blanco’s attention, that should be enough.

“Fine with me.”

They look over at Kaz; he appears apprehensive. Maybe Kaz was having a little self-awareness about his low tolerance.  “Don’t worry so much, Kaz, it’s not like we’re hiding anything anyway.”

Kaz looks at Snake like he wants to say something, but he finally gives up with a slightly shaky sigh.  “Yeah, yeah. Not like we really have a choice.”

Satin grins menacingly.  “Good! I feel better already.”

Satin suit takes two pills out of the tin. Snake swallows his pill immediately. It has a slightly bitter taste. Kaz hesitates, then pops his dose into his mouth with a swift motion, clearing his throat after swallowing. Satin suit relaxes immediately, leaning back into a more casual position on the bed, the cheeky smirk back on his face. Clearly, he get’s good results from this “test”.

“Now all we gotta do is wait.”

“So….who are you then?”

“Gilberto. Gilberto Blanco.”

“Matches the suit.”

Blanco smiles at the comment. It doesn’t reach his eyes.  “I’ve been a pretty terrible host, huh? Where are my manners? Let me get you something to drink.”

He snaps his fingers at one of the men, he looks to be the youngest of the bunch, maybe 19 or 20. The kid grabs some glasses and _aguardiente_ from the rooms minibar, clumsily pouring it out for them. Blanco makes a big show of downing his in one gulp, presumably immune to the strong alcohol. Kaz decidedly follows suit, hissing between his teeth from the burn. Snake holds the glass but doesn’t touch the drink. 

“So, Big Boss, huh? You took down some big shot special agent that defected to the U.S.S.R. with a nuke, right? Saved the whole fuckin’ world, or something like that.”  Blanco generously refills their glasses, deliberately overfilling Snake’s untouched cup so it spills over his hand. Snake doesn’t take his eye off Blanco’s face.

“Yea. That’s the story.”

“Hm. What was so ‘special’ about this special agent? Sounds like if he only needed one guy to take him out, he wasn’t so bad ass.”

“Her.” 

“Huh?”

“She was a woman.”

Blanco leans back and gives Snake the incredulous look Snake had become accustomed to over the years. Part of what made the Boss such an effective agent was people’s tendency to underestimate her. She taught him it was a blessing, to be able to conceal one’s true nature from the enemy.

“Hmm, a woman, huh? Shit…killing men is one thing, but a woman? That’s pretty twisted. What was she doing in the U.S. special forces anyway?”

Snake finally drinks, swallowing his _aguardiente_ in one smooth motion. He was starting to get a tingling sensation all throughout his body. It would be pleasant if not for his heart pounding in his chest like he was running a marathon. Hmmm, this didn’t usually happen to Snake on truth serum. It normally had the opposite effect of making him feel like he was falling asleep.

“She…taught me how to fight. That’s why I was given the mission. I was the only one who stood a chance against her.”

“Huh? Wait, a lady taught you how to fight? Jesus Christ…I can’t tell if you guys are so stupid you’re making this shit up to fuck with me or if this shit is so stupid it _has_ to be true.”

Kaz starts talking, maybe because Snake hadn’t said anything for the past 2 minutes. It was hard to organize his thoughts, suddenly. There was a sweet smell being carried into the room on the breeze, something floral.  ~~ _Isn't it beautiful? It's almost tragic._ ~~ Weren’t they by the ocean, though? He grips his glass so tightly his knuckles creak.

“Look, the story is true, alright?Like you said, if it wasn’t why would we make up something like that, killing a woman who was Big Boss’s mentor when no one in the world even knows who she is. Do you believe us now? Was that ‘enough’ for you?”

The pattern on the carpet under Snake’s feet has started to disintegrate in fractals that continuously rebuilt themselves, looping back into place. Snake is aware that this is most likely because of the drug Blanco gave him, but he wasn’t anticipating the way he was unable to compartmentalize his thoughts the way he normally did. He couldn’t stop the flood of images flickering through his mind more quickly than he can piece anything together, finally fixating on Eva’s face, half shrouded in shadows, lying naked in darkness on a bearskin rug in a remote cabin.  ~~ _But I think she wanted you of all people to know the truth. She wanted to live on in your memory, not as a solider, but as a woman. But she was forbidden to tell you herself. And that's why she told me. Snake, history will ever know what she did. No one will ever learn the truth. Her story... her debriefing, will endure only in your heart._ ~~

“Hmm…I dunno. This lady you had to kill, why did she defect? I mean, she had to know what was gonna happen to her, right? That was practically suicide…why would anyone do that?”

“She made a deal with terrorists…she betrayed her country…sold us out.”

~~ _Everything she did, she did for her country. She sacrificed her life and honor for her native land. She was a real hero. She was a true patr_ ~~

Snake’s intensely aware that he’s sweating copiously but he doesn’t feel the temperature of the room. He keeps seeing white at the edges of his vision  ~~ _white petals drifting through the air_ ~~

“But she stole a nuke! How did she think she was going to get away with that? Like the U.S. would just let that slide?”

Kaz interjects, still somehow grounded. Snake couldn’t tell if Kaz was just acting like he was fine or if Snake was totally spiraling. Everything felt like it was swaying, like he was suspended  _~~Think~~ _ on a bridge  ~~ _you can pull the trigger?_ ~~

“Why she did what she did doesn’t matter. The point is that clearly, we’re not, as you put it, _making this shit up to fuck with you._ So tell your men to lower their guns.”

Blanco leans back and pretends to consider, but he’s clearly been swayed. He looked like a kid himself, probably younger than Kaz.

“Hahaha ok, fair enough! You guys have made your point…I guess we’ll need to let you come down before we can discuss business, huh? Damn, maybe I shouldn’t have given you that mescaline, this will take forever.”

“No shit…what the fuck was the purpose of doing that anyway? Do the CIA really use hallucinogenics for getting information now?”

“Yea! It’s real, the dude told me all about it. He said they had this one guy who-“

_"I've been waiting, Snake, for a long time. Waiting for your birth, your growth, and the finality of today.”_

_Snake stands across the field from the Boss. The flowers were still swaying from the force of the Davy Crockett blast. She drops the launcher unceremoniously, her face placid. In spite of everything that’s happened, Snake couldn’t help but still think of her as his mentor and he, her student. Any minute she would end it with a simple,’Ok, that’s enough of this exercise for today’, then invite him to the mess hall to go over everything he’d done wrong. Snake tastes bile rise in his throat and swallows it._

_“Boss…Why are you doing this? Why?”_

_She smiles at Snake like he was a child asking a silly question with an obvious answer. He feels desperately small._

_“To make the world one again.”_

~~ “SNAKE!! Snake, snap out of it-“ ~~

~~ “Somebody shoot him!! _Mierda_ what the fuck is wrong-“ ~~

_“I raised you .I loved you. I've given you weapons, taught you techniques, endowed you with knowledge. There is nothing more for me to give you. All that's left for you to take… is my life.”_

~~ Snake is vaguely aware of something struggling in his hands, he twists sharply and with a _crack_ it goes still. ~~

_“One must die and one must live. No victory, no defeat. The survivor will carry on the fight. It is our destiny... The one who survives will inherit the title of Boss. And the one who inherits the title of Boss will face an existence of endless battle._

_You're a soldier! Finish your mission! Show your loyalty! Face me!”_

~~ Blanco’s suit is stained red, blood runs in rivulets down the front of his bare chest. He wheezes through a broken windpipe, a half-conscious last laugh. The irony of the situation had dawned on him. ~~

_“Jack…or should I say…Snake…”_

_The Boss’s face, just seconds before so terrifying, so full of life, had gone pale. Blood bubbles up through the holes in her suit in time with her heart beat. Snake feels them pulling him in, drowning him in the void inside her._

_“You’re a wonderful man…_

_Kill me…_

_Kill me now…_

**_Doit…_ **

There’s only room for one Boss. And one Snake.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The word "groovy" originated in the jazz culture of the 1920s, in which it referred to the “groove” of a piece of music (its rhythm and “feel”), plus the response felt by its listeners. It can also reference the physical groove of a record in which the pick-up needle runs.


End file.
